


Breaking Bones

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bad decisions equal broken bones... But they'll heal. Stan's more worried about what happened before the crash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Something I just came up with tonight. Not all that well-written, but oh well, better than nothing, right? Hope you guys enjoy.
> 
> Not overly noticeable Style, but it's there, though I suppose you could interpret it just as easily as friends. I was thinking about making a second part to this? Maybe? I might just leave it as is, but who knows.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

GOD, if he had something in his hand, if he could just move his arm without hurting himself, he'd have chucked something at the clock right across from his hospital bed by now. Every second that passes is another reminder of his lost sleep. These stupid thoughts that race through his head.

_You could have died._

But he didn't. He's alive, breathing. In pain, but breathing. It's his own damn fault. Clyde had a little too much to drink and he shouldn't have got in the car, but it was his own decision that got him here.

_If only you had listened, fuckwad._

If only he had just thought it through, but he had been too pissed to really think straight. Too stupidly angry to listen to reason, to not be a complete dumbass and risk his life. And now he's in pain, but the pain meds the nurses give him knock off enough of the edge. But it's not just the pain, it's something else.

_Let's play a game on how many times Stan Marsh can fuck up._

His mom and dad had already visited, went back home. Stan's fine, or so the doctors had said. But they thought it best for him to stay here, "just to be sure." After all, it _had_ been a pretty bad crash. What-the-fuck-ever. He just wants to sleep now. But there's some nagging thought in his head. Something bothering him, something he just recently started to think about.

Kyle must be super pissed off.

He remembers most of everything. He remembers that Kyle had been really snappy lately because of some big test, and that bothered Stan (stupid) to the point that when Kyle had made some off-hand comment about wanting to just go home, Stan rolled his eyes and made some snide comment (stupid), making Kyle obviously question him which made Stan snap back a rude-as-hell reply (stupid, stupid, stupid.) They got into it. It was just some stupid fight that friends sometimes get into, right? Just a bad week.

But, well, this week took the cake. 

Now he was in a damn hospital.

Clyde announced he was going to ride around town and Stan offered to join him. Kyle told him not to, despite the fact that they just thought, but of course Stan was just defiant enough to do it anyway.

He wishes he could rewind, go back to last week and try to start this week all over again. What had gotten into him anyway? Why the fuck did he act so goddamn stupid sometimes? He wonders, trying to remember where he really went sour. But he falls asleep, dreamless.

* * *

He's allowed to go home. His arm's broken and his body aches, but he's okay. He's quiet the entire ride home and no one talks. When he gets home, he goes straight to his room, Randy close behind in case he slips and breaks his damn neck. He climbs into bed and sleeps for three hours. When he wakes up, it's sometime in the afternoon. 

His fingers fidget with his phone and, half-asleep, he scrolls through his contacts. His thumb hesitates over Kyle's name, and he eventually just scrolls down to Wendy's.

It's half an hour before she replies, listing off all the shit that Cartman did and other odds and ends that their classmates had pulled off. Like how Craig and Kenny had gotten into it over something stupid. Or something. He just skimmed through the text before punching out, "anything else?"

"he didnt say anything"

He  _almost_ texts back something like "what?" but it's pointless; Wendy's too smart for that bullshit. He texts back a quick bye, using the lame excuse that he's tired, even though he isn't. He's too worried to sleep. _  
_

It eats him up.

He doesn't go to school for a few days because he can barely make it past a slow walk without grimacing. Wendy brings his homework, sometimes staying a bit longer to explain a few things before she's off for a student council meeting or one of her many other activities. He told her she should take a load off and free up her schedule so she can relax, but she doesn't, and he doesn't question her.

But on Thursday, it isn't Wendy that waltzes through his bedroom door, it's Kyle, papers in hand where teachers have scrawled assignments in the margins. He's surprised, but he just says, "Hey."

"Hey."

It's quiet for a moment, but the sound of ruffled papers slither across the room as Kyle sorts them out. Stan picks at a hangnail.

"Sorry."

Kyle glances up, as if he didn't expect an apology. He picks at the hangnail more. It hurts. Kyle looks like he's about to say something, but doesn't, so Stan keeps going, "I was being a dumbass the other night. I shouldn't have yelled at you, so, I'm sorry."

His friend (hopefully?) looks through the papers and Stan goes quiet. Then Kyle clears his throat, and he talks, but his voice is unclear, as if he's got a bad cold. The hangnail tears and blood bubbles out. "You really fucked up, dude. When Wendy told me you crashed, I thought you were dead. I didn't even know what to...do."

"...Yeah, and.."

"But," Kyle goes on, "I'm the one that should be sorry."

Confused silence. Stan puts his thumb in his mouth to stop the blood.

"What I said to you... It was way out of line, and..."

"Hey, I said somethings to you too."

"It's not the same."

"Why?"

"Why? Are you serious?" Kyle just gave Stan a dirty look, but Stan gave him a confused one back. "You don't remember?"

"What?"

"What I said, right before you left."

He thinks for a moment, but it's fuzzy. "Guess not?"

"I said," he begins, but he stops short, looking at the ground. "I said, 'Whatever. You wanna get yourself killed, be my guest.'"

"...That's it?"

"Dude."

"We said things we didn't mean," Stan argues, or at least he hopes that's the case.

"But what if you'd really...? That would've been the last thing I said to you, and..." Kyle closes his eyes, shaking his head, and then shoves the papers onto Stan's lap. "I've gotta go home, Ike probably needs help on math."

"Kyle."

"No. You fucked up. I fucked up. We both fucked up. And I just can't right now, Stan. Alright? You just worry about yourself and I'll worry about myself," Kyle throws over his shoulder before he disappears from the doorway.

And Stan's just in too much pain to go after him.

_Fuck._

 


End file.
